


All For One

by orphan_account



Category: Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: F/M, M/M, Multi, Papa Vakarian - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-05
Updated: 2020-01-06
Packaged: 2021-02-18 22:34:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22134250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: For the first time in galactic history, there is peace, and the various civilizations have turned to rebuilding and healing from the devastating aftermath of the Reaper War. But without the great Commander Shepard, the woman who made their victory possible – and the fate of the enemy that brought them together remaining uncertain, this peace may not be what it seems. Told from three different perspectives, this is what came next.
Relationships: Female Shepard/Garrus Vakarian, Kolyat Krios/Original Character(s), Original Mass Effect Character(s) - Relationship
Comments: 3
Kudos: 4





	1. The Promise-Keeper, I

**Mass Effect: All For One**

**NothingSoSpecial**

**Summary:** _For the first time in galactic history, there is peace, and the various civilizations have turned to rebuilding and healing from the devastating aftermath of the Reaper War. But without the great Commander Shepard, the woman who made their victory possible – and the fate of the enemy that brought them together remaining uncertain, this peace may not be what it seems. Told from three different perspectives, this is what came next._ So, follow Garrus Vakarian as he stands by a promise he'll do anything to keep, and confronts those who would gladly see his beloved's work undone. And Adelais Vakarian, as he tries to piece together his broken family and wrestles with a devastating loss of his own. And finally, follow Kolyat Krios, as he's forced into the middle of a terrifying ordeal and makes a decision that changes everything, finally coming to see what “growing up” is all about. **(Garrus' Story: _“The Promise–Keeper.”_ Adelais' Story: “ _The Old Soldier.”_ Kolyat's Story: _“The Wanderer.”)_**

 **Warning:** Rated T for – Language, canon-typical violence, mild alcohol use, references to physical and mental/emotional abuse, vague/heavy implications of child abuse and neglect, implications of PTSD/depression, suicidal thoughts/actions and self-harm, and other adult themes. _(Commander Joelle Shepard: Earth Born/War Hero/Infiltrator/Full Paragon/Garrus Romance/Control Ending)._

**Disclaimer: I do not own Mass Effect or any of its main/supporting characters.**

**N._.s._.S**

**Chapter One: The Promise-Keeper, I.**

**"Never make a promise you can't keep."**

**– Elizabeth Hoyt.**

**"– A** **nd you've got to be kidding!"**

_Garrus Vakarian’s voice is harsher, sharper than he'd meant it to be, but he doesn't care – and even now he fought, even in the full–blown chaos of the war-torn world around them, as the soldiers fired over his shoulder into the teeming masses of husks and monsters and the Spirits knew what else to keep them from overrunning them, and as Tali tried to pull him back onto the Normandy. Even with his shattered leg, he fought his friends and reached out for the Commander’s hand, all as her eyes – her brilliant honey-brown eyes, always half-hidden by the powerful neon blue visor that somehow always saw right through him; saw through damned near everything, in fact – remained calm, gazing back at him… and in that moment, he knew how this would end._

"Don't argue with me, Garrus," _She said, simply, as though that settled it, even as she started to turn, made to run, as though it were the easiest thing for her to do, even though Garrus knew better – knew better than anyone – that it damned near killed her to do it, to walk away from him, knew that her brave, sweet face was just a front – always a front – for their sake,_ "Go."

"We're in this to the end!" _He shouted back at once, hoarsely, desperately,_ "Together, Joelle!"

_That – that, thank the Spirits – made her look back, and for the first time, Garrus saw it – the pain. Saw it after so many months, maybe years, even, of such incredible, austere calm that everyone, perhaps even the Reapers, had learned to fear as they loomed overhead; threatening everything she and everyone else had ever known – or ever would. He finally glimpsed, for a split second, beneath those glistening, liquid–honey eyes, the anguish that had built in her; the maddening grief that was killing her, grating her iron will down faster than the countless enemies they faced; faster than the Illusive Man, Kai Leng, Cerberus, or even the Reapers. Joelle suddenly turned quickly on her heel toward him in long, purposeful steps, her honey eyes softening – and for one golden moment, as she reached out for him, he actually thought she might come with them –_

_– With him –_

_But no, he’d later realize, No, that wasn't – couldn't ever be – what she would do._

_That wouldn’t be the Commander Shepard he knew._

_Not the Joelle he loved._

"No matter what happens here," _Shepard said, her voice as confident and as comforting as ever, but strangely low, catching – like it usually got when she was forcing herself not to cry or show some powerful, painful emotion she wasn't quite used to – as her heavy, armored hands gently wiped away the dirt and grime that had smeared his royal–blue markings – the ones she had always admired and almost got him to paint on her own face once,_ "You know I'll always love you."

_It's as though someone stuck a knife into his chest as the reality of what she was saying – as the sheer, crushing truth of what was happening, finally dawns on him, and it hurts so much that it causes the pain in his leg to reignite in newfound agony, even as he shoves Tali out of the way, nearly knocking the Quarian tech expert over, to rush forward to grasp Shepard’s armored hands in his three-pronged, taloned hands – forcing himself to look into her familiar, sweet honey eyes for what could be the last time._

_Spirits, he couldn't do this – he can't just let her go, not like this. He wanted to wrap his arms around her, drag her back into the Normandy himself, with him, Tali, Joker, EDI, and all the others; wanted to get her away from this, from this damned war that she’d practically fought alone for all this time._

_… He'd do anything in this moment, to keep her._

"… I always will."

_It's these words that finally kick all the fight out of him; even as they twist the knife deeper. He winces at their strength and he lowers his eyes, as their foreheads briefly touch before she begins to pull away, stepping back at last as she smiled her old, mischievous smile – the pain behind her honey eyes slowly melting away once again; hiding under the ever–present, façade of stoic strength and confidence._

"Shepard I… love you, too."

_The words alone are so true, so powerful, that it's through a show of fierce, raw force of will that his legs don't give out underneath him when he realizes how true they are; powerful enough that Shepard's honey eyes light up even more than they have in so long, and she trembles – and suddenly Garrus wished he'd had the quad to tell her that every day. He wished –_

_– Spirits, Spirits, he wished –_

_Just then, just overhead, the otherworldly, damnable screech of an approaching Reaper sounded as Harbinger descended over the Crucible; somehow more grating, more powerful, than he remembered it ever being before._

"Go!" _She shouted, and with that, Garrus knew it was all lost, that it was all finally over, as Shepard finally stepped away and the Normandy began to lift off, the doors slowly inching closed between them, cutting them apart,_ "Go!"

_Until the moment the doors closed, until the moment Tali dragged him bodily away from that door; he reached for her, shouting her name, over and over, even though he knew damn well it was too late, that he'd lost her, that she probably wasn't coming back – knowing that after all they'd promised, after all he'd made her promise just hours ago – could very well mean nothing now._

_Because she was out there, alone, after all of it._

_Garrus fought Tali off again to slam his fists against the doors, again and again, until it all, finally, mercifully, went black._

**N._.s._.S**


	2. The Old Soldier, I

** Chapter Two: The Old Soldier, I. **

**"Make no mistake: I will protect them.**

**If you draw your sword, you will bleed upon this earth,**

**Until your corpse is lost beneath it.**

**– Unknown.**

**A** **delais Vakarian had once liked to think that few things in the Galaxy could scare him – really, actually scare him.** _After all he'd been through already, after all he'd seen, done – hell, most of it happening more than a decade or three before the woman who became the legendary Commander Shepard had even been born; before the Reapers were even a single thought in anyone's head – Adelais had figured he'd seen it all._

_But he had been wrong._

_Nothing, absolutely nothing – not living through the unholy terror that was his Childhood, not facing enemies neither he nor Palaven Command had ever seen before during the 314 Incident; going in blind, turning every corner without the slightest clue as to what he'd find next, not chasing down the Citadel's most ruthless murderers who'd kill thousands of people - destroy the station, even, without hesitation if it meant getting away. Not also watching his family shattering apart by his hand as his wife sickened and died in his arms – could have prepared him for what had come._

_No one, not even him, could have been ready for the Reapers._

**N._.s._.S**

**T** **he unrelenting Palaven sun beat down overhead as the lone Turian made his way down the crowded stairwell.** His stride was quick, confident, and purposeful. He wore a suit of heavy, dull ashen armor that never once glinted, not even under the magnificent sun. His deep, royal blue markings were unmistakable and flawless, and his arms were folded neatly behind his back as he moved, shoulders tense and straight in old-school military appraisal. There was an ancient, scoped, and heavily modified sniper rifle belted to his back in a shiny silver harness, and a pistol – a worn, well–used M–77 Paladin, peeked shyly out from behind the sharp, jutting peaks of his hips.

Adelais Vakarian weaved silently and expertly through the thick, noisy crowd of Turian medics, soldiers, and refugees with a sharp, practiced midnight blue eye; using his impressive, though unusual height of six–foot–seven to his advantage, towering easily over everyone else’s shoulders, hyper-vigilant his in wordless, expectant search. The crowd began to part as he headed toward one of the further camps that had scattered outside the once sacred, ominous halls of the Primarch and his top Advisers.

Finally, as he reached the closest, largest tent decorated with a medic’s signature, Adelais spotted her, sitting on a discarded chair, braced leg outstretched. Solana Vakarian may have inherited her mother’s bright azure eyes, but she had her father’s no-nonsense, iron grit – though both of his children had, as Adelais had come to realize, not too long ago. Trained as a medic like her mother before her and arguably one of the best in her field, Solana had refused to become one of the countless, helpless refugees who sought comfort, hope even, within the decimated walls of Cipritine. The first thing she’d done when they returned there together months ago was report into whatever was left of her old unit and then promptly got to work, tirelessly now, day and night.

Adelais was infinitely proud of that, of course, any good father would have been, proud of his daughter’s selfless courage, her sacrifice to the greater cause, to the people who desperately needed her, and indeed expected nothing less of his late wife’s daughter. Still, he wasn’t about to let her go unchecked, either – as he was doubtlessly guilty of in the past.

 _… But that was then._ Adelais kept telling himself, when the doubt began to loom, kept him awake and uneasy through the night, _And this is now._

 _Just keep going! Leave me and go! Go!_ She’d begged him, her voice near incoherent in her desperation – the pain, defeat, the resignation in her voice sticking with him for those next few months of hell, reminding him over and over; even as they narrowly succeeded in fighting their way across Palaven together, how close he’d come to losing her during the desperate fight, _Dad, just go!_

 _I will not abandon you!_ He’d shouted at her later, the moment they were safe again (for the moment, at least), _Don’t you dare ever tell me that again, Solana!_

_But –_

_– Ever, damn it!_ Adelais had cut her off, furiously, his voice rising to a hoarse shout, paying no attention even as the few others in their group stared at him, shocked, as he grasped his daughter’s shoulders and shook her, his grated raw nerves finally revealing itself for the first time since the war had begun, _Do you understand?_

 _I… okay,_ Thank the Spirits, that got her to stop arguing, to finally understand, cerulean eyes still wide and stunned at the unexpected fury, _Yes, Dad. I’m sorry._

“Solana!” He called to her, his naturally sharp, authoritative voice raising easily above the deafening noise around him, causing passerby to jump at the force of it – and a few of the stronger soldiers to instantly turn attention – as his daughter quickly stood up, brilliant cerulean eyes glinting in the sun as he caught up to her at last, enveloping her into a quick embrace before stepping back again and helping her sit down again just as quickly, his protective, taloned hand on her shoulder tightening as she winced at the movement and stretched her bad leg out again.

“Hey, Dad,” Her mandibles clicked cheerfully as he bent and inspected the metal brace, mandibles twitching into a frown as he noticed the swelling and bruising had gotten worse in the hours he’d been away, “How’d it go?”

“I get to ask that first,” He replied, lightly, expertly hiding the concern in his voice, “How are you feeling?”

“Not good,” Solana grimaced and shook her head, as if disgusted with herself for her honesty, “I still can’t stand up longer than a few minutes.”

When the Reapers hit Cipritine, the heart of Palaven itself, Adelais and Solana had been on the front lines. The formerly magnificent city of steel that had been Adelais’ birthplace – and that of his wife and children in turn – had burned and buckled around alongside the moons and stars overhead and, indeed, the entire galaxy beyond its once-proud walls. Armed with the knowledge that Garrus, his second-born, was out there somewhere, dead for all they knew at the time, Adelais and Solana fled, fighting for their lives until the timely intervention of the Krogan eventually drove their enemy back long enough to escape

Both of them had been injured in the fight but at different times. Solana had arguably got the worst of it, ambushed in the dead of night by a group of Brutes and countless husks, undoubtedly sent by the Reapers to finish off the remnants of what would later be called Palaven’s greatest, largest resistance force. Her leg had been crushed to nothing but a bloody chunk of useless flesh, leaving countless, ugly mars and scars down its length as proof of her narrow brush against death. Now, with the war won and time passing, her body was finally beginning to heal, but Adelais knew it would still be a shadow of its former self for years to come. Adelais’ wounds had been dumb luck; shallow and fleeting in the grand scheme of these - though someone had told him months ago that he’d still get his due, given time, whatever that meant.

“Are you in pain?” Adelais asked, cautiously, and the long, meaningful pause that followed was his answer.

“I’ll find you something to help, then – a new shipment of supplies came in last night,” Adelais promised, standing back up, putting his hand back on his daughter’s unarmored shoulder and giving her a half–concerned, half–exasperated, look, “Don’t stand up for me next time, then. Why didn’t you say something?”

 _It’s my job to protect you, not the other way around!_ Adelais hadn’t realized how protective his children had become of him after his wife, their mother, passed, and he had been none too pleased to find out.

_Carissa would have never forgiven him for that._

“I’m working,” Solana reminded him, shortly, jerking her head toward the tent flap, toward the camp and countless refugees waiting for them, mandibles twitching in clear affront – as they’d taken to doing whenever Adelais questioned her about her injury. She was doing what Garrus had done; taking the question as an insult or some silent accusation rather than the genuine concern it was meant to be, “When I’ve got something to do, it doesn’t hurt so much. I just need to focus on something else, Dad, that’s all.”

Adelais sighed, his mandibles clicking in evident frustration, though he knew better now than to show it.

“You’re a medic, Solana. You should know better,” He chided, gently, trying to keep any edge from creeping into his voice and hoping to avoid yet another argument on the subject, “Ignoring your injury won’t make it go away.”

“I know,” She retorted, turning her pained, bright eyes away, “Spirits, Dad, I know. But these people need my help more right now. These ‘camps’ just aren’t getting any better.”

Adelais knew she was right. From the start, he’d known that without their government, without Adrien Victus, without their Primarch taking command of his people like he was supposed to – hope was dwindling, and soon it would wither and die entirely. They hadn’t rebuilt so much as they’ve reconvened. There was no centralization, no organized system, anymore. Without it, Palaven was a mere, pitiful shadow of the gloriously beautiful fifteen–thousand-year-old civilization it had been before the war, running on half–baked ideas that, sooner or later, people were going to realize were probably going in circles and, ultimately, nowhere.

It didn’t matter that the Reapers were helping to rebuild, as Adelais had argued for the past six months, they needed Victus, and soon.

“That’s not your fault.”

“Then why does it feel like it?” She demanded, losing her cool at last as she buried her face in her three-pronged, taloned hands, ashamed, her voice ground out and agonizing for Adelais to hear, after all this – after all they’d been through in the past year alone, “Garrus beat the Reapers, but I can’t even help someone with a broken arm.”

And there it was. Adelais sighed and knelt next to his daughter again, gently cupping a hand over one side of her face while wrapping his other arm around her shoulders as she pressed her crested forehead into his armor, shaking. He didn’t force her to look at him, as he would have done long ago – he knew better than that now, thank the Spirits, understood how it had crushed both of his children when he stared them down and lectured them, frightening them when in fact he was only trying to teach, guide – so Adelais just sat there for a while, patiently, silently, knowing it would only take a few moments before the frustration drained and calm returned.

“Garrus had help, Solana. He had some of the best working with him, every step of the way, remember?” Adelais murmured, softly, after an appropriate amount of time had passed, as he snaked his hand around his daughter’s other wrist so he could pull the taloned hand from her face, so he could peer into her cerulean eyes, “He had powerful, powerful allies, like Commander Shepard, Victus, the Council, the Alliance, even the Krogan – and more than half of the galaxy’s fleets combined stood behind the Normandy on Earth six months ago, to help get them to London. Garrus helped end the war, but he certainly didn’t make it happen by himself. You heard what Councilor Hackett said over the Comm. lines – _‘this victory belongs to all of us’_ – and I promise, that includes you.”

Solana nodded, and her eyes relaxed a little, much to Adelais’ relief.

“... Did you at least get to speak with the Primarch?” She finally spoke again, as Adelais slowly pulled back, “Did you get them to listen?”

Adrien Victus, their Primarch - elected in the very beginning of the Reaper War after an ill-fated escape attempt killed his predecessor - had chosen to fight on Earth with the rest of the fleet assembled by the legendary Commander Joelle Shepard, the first Human Spectre turned architect of the Reaper’s eventual defeat. She had near single-handedly assembled that fleet; a final, desperate fight to face the Reapers head-on and end the war, recruiting everyone from the Primarch to the likes of Aria T’Loak, the would-be queen of the desolate crime-ridden world, Omega. As repayment for saving Palaven by curing the Krogan of the Genophage, Adrien fought on Earth alongside the gathered forces, thankfully escaping with his life when it ended.

But, as they found, all this had come at a terrible and almost crippling cost. Adelais had heard that the state of Earth was near triple that of Palaven with so many assembled for the now-legendary Commander’s fleet that consisted of damn near everyone else - even with the Reaper’s sudden change of heart.

“I did, thank the Spirits,” Adelais said, his voice betraying the excitement in his voice at the good news, and Solana smiled at him as he added, “It’ll just be you and me though. They can’t spare any other higher-ranking officers until Victus gets back.”

And then there was the Citadel, the center of Galactic politics and the site of the end of the war thanks to the Crucible (the weapon that the entire galaxy had eventually banded together to build to destroy the Reapers), which been moved to the Sol System near the end of the war by their enemy when they found out about it. That was where they suspected their Primarch was, settling things with whatever remained of the Council –

– And where Garrus was, Adelais had privately told himself as he argued with them, back and forth, for months, That is where Solana and I need to be now, Primarch or no Primarch.

But with the Reapers helping with the massive, galaxy-wide rebuilding efforts, no one could be sure what that almighty blue light had meant to do. Without any continuing threat, their leaders had declared the War over – but in reality, no one knew if the Reaper War had indeed ended. No one knew if they had won or if this was some kind of prelude to an even worse fate. With Commander Shepard, the one who had used the weapon, still missing and unable to tell them for sure, the Council had simply elected to declare victory when it became clear the monstrous, mechanical beasts were probably no longer a threat.

“But, we’re still going after Garrus, right?” She clarified, excitedly, as if reading her father’s mind.

So, armed with the knowledge of their uncertain victory, Adelais had spent the last few months arguing with the newest group of Advisers – of which he was declared Chief; the oldest at fifty–three years old, thanks to a belated message sent from Victus – for permission to retrieve their Primarch from the Citadel.

Though he indeed had another reason for his campaign.

“Officially, we’re going to the Sol System to retrieve Adrien Victus. He’ll come back here, and I’ll be staying with the Council as his official liaison and Advisor,” Adelais corrected, though his brilliant, midnight-blue eyes winked at his daughter as he added, “Unofficially, however… yes. We’re going for Garrus.”

And as usual, it was the influence of the Vakarian name that eventually got him what he wanted. As much as Adelais hated it, as much as he wished it had been his own doing, his merit and his grit that won him this; he couldn’t – wouldn’t – deny the power of privilege that came with being his father’s son.

“Yes!” Solana beamed at him, wincing when she tried to stand up.

“– Okay, okay, easy,” Adelais chuckled though his voice laden with amusement enough for his daughter to laugh as the old soldier bent down to offer her his shoulder, “Come.”

“Yes, sir!” Solana answered, her old cheerfulness suddenly returning as she obediently wrapped an arm around her father’s armored shoulder, easing the pressure on her leg as she leaned on him, “Tell me we’re leaving soon?”

“Soon? No,” Adelais shook his head and gave an exceedingly rare, deep laugh that boomed across the busy raucous campground, causing his daughter’s azure eyes to light up again even as passerby stared at him in shock at the strength of it, “We’re leaving now, Solana.”

**N._.s._.S**

**Author's Note:**

> An old fanfic I had laying around that I decided to revitalize after I got hit by a plot bunny. Thanks to my friends on Discord for bugging me about it!


End file.
